Xiantian Year One, August 20th. Chang'an.
Autumn in Chang'an was exceptionally quiet on this day.
Before dawn, the drums of the palace city sounded. Not war drums, but the same kind that had rung during the coronation—nine beats, one after another, echoing from the Taiji Palace to every corner of Chang'an. But today was not a coronation. Today was the day to announce to Heaven and Earth and the Imperial Ancestors. It was the day to confer the title of Empress.
The lamp shaped like the osmanthus tree in the Moon Palace in the dental clinic was still lit. I stood by the window, watching the sky outside change from black to gray, from gray to white. In Vancouver, I often watched the dawn break like this. After finishing a long night shift, walking out of the Emergency Department, standing at the hospital entrance waiting for a taxi. The sky would brighten just like this. First gray, then white, and then the sun would drill out from between the buildings, turning the entire street golden. Back then, I thought my life's greatest achievement would be obtaining a Master's in Nursing and establishing myself at Vancouver General Hospital. I never expected that my greatest achievement would be traveling to the Great Tang to become an Emperor's woman.
"Your Majesty, it is time to dress," Qingyuan stood at the door, her voice very soft.
I turned around. She held thathuiyi (the Empress's ceremonial robe), her hands trembling slightly. Not from cold, but from nervousness. More nervous than I was.
"Qingyuan, just call me 'Third Lady' (San Niang). If you call me 'Your Majesty,' I won't react in time."
"How can that be! Today is the conferral ceremony—"
"Then call me once. After today, call me whatever you like."
She hesitated, then whispered, "Third Lady, you look so beautiful today."
"We haven't even done our hair and makeup yet; you can already tell?"
"Mm. Your eyes are shining."
Dressing
The female officials from the Shangong Bureau surrounded me like a swarm of busy bees.
Combing hair. Placing the crown. Drawing eyebrows. Dotting lips. I sat before the bronze mirror, watching the person in the reflection change bit by bit. My hair was combed into a high bun, adorned with twelve goldendian (hairpins), each studded with pearls and kingfisher feathers, heavy enough to weigh down the head. Ahuadian (forehead decoration) was pasted on my forehead—a plum blossom cut from gold foil. My eyebrows were drawn long and curved, like distant mountains. My lips were dotted with cinnabar red, the color of pomegranate flowers.
"Your Majesty, this is the Nine-Dragon Four-Phoenix Crown." The Shangong official held the crown, carefully placing it on my head.
Dragons and phoenixes woven from gold thread, intertwining and coiling. The dragons held strings of pearls in their mouths; the phoenix tails were adorned with gemstones. It was heavy. So heavy my neck felt like it could barely support it. I remembered that in Vancouver, the most formal clothes I had ever worn were the academic robes for graduation. Black, wide, with tassels on the cap brim. I wore that robe for an afternoon, took it off, pressed it to the bottom of a box, and never took it out again. But thishuiyi and the Nine-Dragon Four-Phoenix Crown were not for an afternoon. They were for a lifetime.
"Your Majesty, bear with it. Once the ceremony is over, it will be fine."
I looked into the bronze mirror, gazing at the woman wearing the Nine-Dragon Four-Phoenix Crown and thehuiyi. Who was she? Was she Gu Qingyan? Was she the student from Vancouver who worked night shifts in the ER, falling asleep at the nurses' station?
Footsteps sounded at the door. Not Qingyuan's, buthis. I recognized them. He stood at the doorway, already changed into hisgunmian (imperial ceremonial robes). Black upper garment with red lower skirt, twelve-tasseled crown. Just like the day of his ascension. But his eyes were different. On the day of ascension, his eyes were bright, shining with the light of finally waiting for something. Today, his eyes were soft. Shining with the light of someone who had searched for a long time and finally found what they were looking for.
He stood there like a sword returned to its scabbard.
Thegunmian was too heavy. Twelve chapter symbols, black upper garment, red lower skirt, twelve-tasseled crown. Worn by others, these clothes would crush the person. Worn by him, the person crushed the clothes. His shoulders were broad enough to support the weight of the black robe. His waist was straight enough to support the drape of the red skirt. The jade beads of themianliu hung before his forehead, obscuring his brows and eyes, yet unable to hide the aura surrounding him. He stood there, not speaking, not moving, and he was already the Son of Heaven of the Great Tang.
He walked toward me. The bead strings of his crown swayed gently, shattering into fragments of light that fell upon his face. He reached out and lightly touched thehuadian on my forehead. His fingers were long and slender, knuckles distinct, fingertips bearing thin calluses—from holding the bow, from holding the sword.
"Qingyan."
"Your Majesty."
"Still call me 'Your Highness' (Dianxia)." The corners of his mouth lifted slightly; that arc was too familiar to me. The first time he came to the clinic, he smiled just like that.
"Your Highness is deceiving people. This crown is deadly heavy. The heaviest thing I've worn in Vancouver was an N95 mask."
He paused. "What mask?"
"Nothing. Something that covers half the face." I sighed. "Your Highness, if you treat me badly in the future, I'm going back to Vancouver."
"Where is Vancouver?"
"Very far. It takes a long time by ship."
"Then I will accompany you on the ship."
"If Your Highness leaves, who will be Emperor?"
He lowered his head, looking at me. The bead strings of his crown almost touched my forehead. He smiled. That smile was light, faint, but his eyes were bright.
"Then don't go."
The Imperial Ancestral Temple
The first rite of conferring the Empress was to announce to Heaven, Earth, and the Imperial Ancestors.
He emerged from the Taihe Gate. Morning light fell upon him; the bead strings of his crown flashed, like light tempered with stars. He walked very slowly, each step exactly the same length. Neither hurried nor slow, steady as a mountain.
I followed behind him. Not walking, but proceeding. Proceeding on the Imperial Way, under the gaze of the civil and military officials, amidst the music of chimes and flutes. Officials lined both sides, dressed in crimson, green, and cyan, stretching from the Taihe Gate all the way to the Imperial Ancestral Temple. They knelt. No one raised their heads. No one dared to raise their heads.
I watched his back. His back was straight, his shoulders broad. Thegunmian on him was not clothing; it was armor. It was the armor one puts on after walking too long in the deepest darkness of power and finally reaching the summit.
The doors of the Imperial Ancestral Temple opened.
He walked ahead. I walked behind. Step by step. Each step very slow, each step the same length. He stopped before the spirit tablets of the ancestors. I stopped too. He knelt. I knelt too.
The voice of the Taichang Minister rang out: "His Majesty the Emperor, announcing to the successive ancestors—"
His voice was solemn, reciting character by character. Reciting the achievements of Gaozu, the achievements of Taizong, the landscape of the Great Tang. Finally, the Taichang Minister stopped and handed the sacrificial text to him. He took it but did not read it. He looked at me. Across the bead strings of themianliu, across the incense smoke of the temple.
"With the successive ancestors above," his voice was not loud, but every word was clear. "Subject Longji, today confers Gu氏 Qingyan as Empress."
He paused. I looked at his profile. Themianliu obscured his brows and eyes, but his jawline was tightly clenched. The lines of his profile were sharp, his nose bridge high and straight, the curve from cheekbone to chin as if carved by a knife. Morning light filtered through the window lattices of the temple, falling on his face, outlining his silhouette with a golden rim.
"Subject Longji, here makes a vow. In this life and this world, only this one person. Life after life, generation after generation, only this one person."
The Imperial Ancestral Temple was extremely quiet. The scent of incense curled in the air; the golden characters on the spirit tablets glowed in the candlelight. The civil and military officials knelt outside the hall; no one dared to move. The wind stopped, the birds ceased singing; the entire world seemed to halt.
He knelt there, in his black robe and red skirt, wearing the twelve-tasseled crown. He was the Son of Heaven of the Great Tang. The Son of Heaven who decided life and death with a stroke. The Son of Heaven who forced Pei Sheng to death in court without blinking. The Son of Heaven who fought five men alone in an alley, a sword in hand like a blade drawn from its sheath. The Son of Heaven whose eyes reddened before the Ministry of Justice prison but did not cry. The Son of Heaven who personally sent off his own aunt without his hand trembling.
Kneeling before his ancestors, he said:Only this one person.
His voice was not loud, but every word was like a nail, hammered into every pillar of the temple, hammered into the spirit tablets of the ancestors, hammered into my heart. I looked at his profile. Morning light shone from behind him, outlining his silhouette clearly. His eyelashes were long, casting a fan-shaped shadow on his cheekbones. His lips were slightly pursed, just as they were when he had a toothache. But this time, it wasn't his tooth that hurt. It was the act of carving a person's name into his bones.
The voice of the Taichang Minister rang out again: "The rite is complete—"
He stood up, turned around, and looked at me. Across the bead strings of themianliu, across the incense smoke of the temple, across the three hundred years of the Great Tang's realm. He reached out his hand. His hand was beautiful. Fingers long and slender, knuckles distinct, nails trimmed neatly. It was a hand that held bows, a hand that held swords, a hand that held brushes. Three completely different temperaments existed in the same hand, perfectly harmonious.
"Qingyan, come."
I placed my hand in his palm. He grasped it. His palm was warm. As warm as the first time he came to the clinic. As warm as every moonlit night he walked me back.
Receiving the Investiture
The second rite of conferring the Empress took place in the Taiji Hall.
He ascended the Taiji Hall first and sat on the Imperial Throne. I stood outside the hall, waiting. Separated by the entire Taiji Hall, separated by the civil and military officials, separated by the music of chimes and flutes. Yet I could see him. He sat on the throne; themianliu obscured his brows and eyes, but could not obscure his gaze. He was looking at me.
The voice of the Tongshi Sheren (Master of Ceremonies) rang out: "Proclaiming the edict—"
He stood up and walked to the front of the hall. The Shizhong held the investiture scroll, the Zhongshu Ling held the imperial seal. His voice was not loud, but every word was clear:
"We consult regarding Gu氏 Qingyan. Born of a meritorious lineage, possessing exemplary grace. Since entering the palace, she has been respectful and diligent without slack. During the turmoil of the political upheaval, she aided us through difficulties. With the position of the Imperial Consort vacant, we select only the virtuous. Therefore, we appoint you as Empress. May you respectfully receive this great mandate, diligently perform the duties of a wife, extend your influence to the six quarters, and serve as the maternal model for the world. Revere this!"
The scroll and the seal were placed in a painted pavilion, carried by commandants, departing from the Taiji Hall, passing through the Duan Gate, the Chengtian Gate, along Zhuque Avenue, all the way to the Qingning Palace. I waited in the Qingning Palace.
Agarwood was burning in the hall; curling blue smoke drifted from the gilded incense burner. Vermilion red carpets covered the floor, stretching from the entrance to the front of the throne. Female officials from the Shangong Bureau stood on both sides, hands hanging, heads bowed.
The investiture envoys arrived. They were Yao Chong and Li Rizhi. Dressed in court robes, holding tally sticks, carrying the scroll and the seal, they entered through the main gate. I stood up, walked to the center of the hall, and faced north—with my back to the south. This was the position for a subject receiving a mandate.
Yao Chong read the investiture text. It was the same as what he had said before the Taiji Hall, but with an added line:
"In the first year of Xiantian, year Renzi, eighth month, first day Xinsi, twentieth day Gengzi. The Emperor says: We consult regarding Gu氏 Qingyan. Heaven makes the match, Earth receives Heaven. Qian and Kun take their positions, Sun and Moon shine bright. Therefore, we appoint you as Empress."
I knelt and received the scroll and the seal. The golden scroll was heavy; the Seal of the Empress was also heavy. Not the heaviness of bronze, but another kind of heaviness. The heaviness of a lifetime.
Court Congratulations
The conferral rite was complete. He returned to the Taiji Hall first to accept the congratulations of the ministers. I remained in the Qingning Palace to accept the congratulations of the titled ladies.
Many came. Princesses,王妃 (wives of kings), and titled ladies, dressed impeccably, lining up from the doorway to the courtyard. They knelt, performing the ritual of six standings, three kneelings, and three prostrations. Six times standing solemnly, three times kneeling, three times kowtowing. With each kowtow, the forehead had to touch the back of the hand.
I sat on the throne, watching them. Many people. Very orderly. Very beautiful. But my mind was in the Imperial Ancestral Temple. Thinking of the words he spoke while kneeling before the ancestors. His voice, his profile, his hand.
The ceremony ended. The titled ladies dispersed. The hall became quiet, leaving only the scent of agarwood and the light of the candles. I sat on the throne; the crown was heavy, thehuiyi was heavy, and the Seal of the Empress clutched in my hand was also heavy.
He stood at the door. He had already changed into casual clothes—a moon-white round-collar robe, hair bound with a jade hairpin. Just like the first time he came to the clinic. A few strands of hair had come loose, blown across his forehead. His eyes were very bright. He stood there like a sword just returned to its scabbard. The blade still held blood, but the scabbard was warm.
"Why has Your Highness come?"
"To find you." He walked in, squatted down before me, and helped me remove the Nine-Dragon Four-Phoenix Crown. The crown was heavy; when his fingers touched my hair, my neck finally relaxed.
"Longji."
He froze. His fingers stopped in my hair, motionless. He looked at me, his gaze changing. Not surprise, not confusion, but something else—it was light. The light of someone who had searched for a long time and finally found what they were looking for.
"What did you call me?"
"Longji," I said. "You are my Longji. Not 'Your Majesty,' not 'Your Highness,' not 'Emperor.' Just Longji."
He looked at me for a long time. Then he smiled. That smile was light, faint, but his eyes were bright. As bright as the first time he came to the clinic. As bright as every moonlit night he walked me back.
"Say it again."
"Longji."
He lowered his head, burying his face in the hollow of my shoulder. His hair brushed against my neck, tickling. His arms wrapped around my waist, tight. He said nothing. But I felt his eyelashes trembling slightly against the side of my neck. Like a butterfly fluttering its wings.
"Qingyan."
"Hmm?"
"Do you know how long I have waited to hear this title?"
"How long?"
"Since the first time you called me 'Your Highness'." His voice was muffled, coming from my shoulder. "I wondered, when will you be able to call my name."
"Then why didn't you say so earlier?"
"I didn't dare," he raised his head, looking at me. "I was afraid you would think me frivolous."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Longji, you don't hesitate when killing people, but you're cowardly when saying this?"
"That's different," he looked at me. "Killing requires no thought. Saying this requires thinking for a long time."
He looked at me. Under the candlelight, his eyes were very bright. His features flickered in the light and shadow, like a painting. Sword-like eyebrows flew diagonally into his temples, nose bridge high and straight, jawline clean and sharp. His lips were slightly pursed, just as they were when he had a toothache. But this time, it wasn't his tooth that hurt. It was the act of carving a person's name into his heart.
I reached out and touched his face. His cheek was warm. His jaw had fine stubble, prickly to the touch.
"Longji."
"Hmm."
"In private from now on, I will always call you Longji."
"Good."
"And what will you call me?"
"Qingyan." He took my hand. "From our first meeting, I have always called you Qingyan."
The Night
That night, I did not return to the Qingning Palace.
He held my hand, walking through corridors, through side gates, through layer after layer of palace gates. The guards knelt, heads bowed, no one daring to look. The eunuchs retreated to the sides, hands hanging, no one daring to make a sound. He walked ahead of me, his large cloak billowing slightly in the wind. His grip was tight, just as tight as that day in the alley.
His sleeping quarters were in the deepest part of the Taiji Palace.
No agarwood was burning in the hall, no dragon musk. Only a single lamp sat on the desk. The candle flame swayed unsteadily, casting the shadows of two people onto the wall. There were no paintings or calligraphy on the walls, no decorations. Only one piece of calligraphy: "The People are the Foundation of the State." The brushwork was vigorous, the ink traces already old. Brought from the Prince of Linzi's residence.
"Longji."
"Hmm?"
"Why is there only this lamp in your sleeping quarters?"
"I don't like it too bright." He sat on the edge of the bed. "If it's too bright, I can't sleep."
"Will it be better if I accompany you in the future?"
He looked at me. Under the candlelight, his eyes were very bright. His eyelashes were long, casting a fan-shaped shadow on his cheekbones. The corners of his lips lifted slightly; that arc was too familiar to me.
"It will."
He reached out and pulled me beside him. I leaned against his shoulder; his shoulder was broad and hard. Shaped by holding bows, shaped by holding swords. His arm wrapped around my waist, his palm very warm.
"Qingyan."
"Hmm?"
"Do you know what made me happiest today?"
"What?"
"Not the conferral ceremony. Not the vow in the Imperial Ancestral Temple." He lowered his head, looking at me. "It was you calling me Longji."
"Then I'll call you that every day."
"Every day?"
"Every day."
He smiled. He lowered his head and gently kissed my forehead. Very light, very brief. Like every farewell night. But tonight, it was not a farewell. It was a beginning.
"Longji."
"Hmm?"
"Sleep. You have court tomorrow."
"And you?"
"I'll keep you company."
He lay down. He held my hand, not letting go. His breathing gradually steadied, his eyelashes stopped trembling. He fell asleep.
I watched him. Under the candlelight, his face was very peaceful. Not like the Son of Heaven who decided life and death, not like the man who forced Pei Sheng to death in court, not like the young god of war who fought five men alone in an alley. Just a person who had been tired for a long time and could finally close his eyes. A person who lost his mother at eight, grew up alone in the palace, and had never had anyone sleep beside him.
I tightened my grip on his hand.
"Longji," I whispered softly. "Goodnight."
He did not wake. But his fingers curled slightly, gripping me back.
The moon outside the window was round and bright. The lamp shaped like the osmanthus tree in the Moon Palace in the dental clinic was still lit; from Chang'an to Luoyang, from Luoyang back to Chang'an, it had never gone out. But tonight, I was not in the clinic. I was by his side.
Xiantian Year One, August 20th. The Great Tang had a new Empress. The lamp in the clinic was still lit. But the Empress was in the Emperor's sleeping quarters, holding his hand, asleep.
(End of Chapter 21)